Hardest of Hearts
by Lizicia
Summary: 'Darling heart, I loved you from the start, but that's no excuse for the state I'm in.' Abigail's POV, post-5x7, but ultimately Mary/Marshall.


**A/N:** My second IPS fanfic but the only one published, after having seen the latest episode. It has been interesting to see how the writers are trying to tie up all the loose ends. I suppose these episodes are also trying to wrap up the _Who does Marshall love more?_ story but with the infinitely slow progression, I don't know if the one episode left can really do that. And while I do like Abigail, I like Marshall with Mary better.

**Spoilers for anything that has aired so far.**

**Disclaimer:** Nothing belongs to me, as always. Lyrics and title courtesy of Florence + the Machine's _Hardest of Hearts_.

* * *

_There is love in your body but you can't get it out,  
it gets stuck in your head, won't come out of your mouth,  
sticks to your tongue and shows on your face  
that the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste._

When the guests start to leave and Abigail has to say goodbye to each and every one of them, she feels like the proverbial glass; half-empty because Marshall's not there and half-full because she is. When he left hours ago, she figured he would return soon but after receiving his short text _I'll have to stay with Mary_, she knew his return wouldn't have a set time.

Stan is one of the last to go and he gives Abigail a half-smile, sad and a bit understanding as he hesitantly taps her shoulder. "It's just, you know...unforeseeable things we deal with. I'm sure he'll be back as soon as he can and hey, it was a good party. Congratulations once more."

She nods. She has come to realize what Marshall's job as a marshal entails and that's okay. What's not really okay is the understanding that more often than not those unforeseeable things relate to Mary Shannon.

And at last, she is alone in their house and with only Oscar as her company, she sits down on the couch, not bothering with cleaning up the dishes. Abigail doesn't want to start because it would only reinforce the fact that she's alone and there is no Marshall to crack a joke or tell her about the benefits of a dishwasher over washing by hand.

Oscar climbs onto the couch next to her and she absentmindedly strokes his head, letting her mind wander to wherever it wants. And in this solitude, it wanders where she usually forbids it to go. To partners.

Abigail knows Marshall and Mary have been partners for a long time and it's only natural they trust each other and rely on each other and it makes complete sense for Marshall to be with Mary when she's just lost her father, even if he was a fugitive 30 years on the run and she had arrested him.

She's told herself countless of times that they're friends, good friends, possibly even best friends and entertains the idea that if Mary were a man, things wouldn't be different. And men and women can be friends too, there is nothing wrong with that.

But the thing is, Abigail knows Mary being Mary makes all the difference. Whether it is a woman's intuition or something else undefinable, Abigail knows once upon a time Marshall was in love with Mary. And the only thing that's carried them this far is her accepting the notion that it is in the past and Marshall's now in love with her.

Maybe it would be true if she didn't see him slipping once in a while and no matter how tightly she squeezes her eyes shut, that knowledge creeps up on her in moments like these. When she met Marshall, Mary was away and as Abigail later learned, on a vacation with an FBI agent. Marshall hadn't approved, that was clearly obvious but she had written it off as over-protectiveness in a brotherly kind of way. Then again, it took Abigail three months to meet Mary Shannon and when she did, it made things a lot more difficult.

It would be easier if she didn't like Mary, she has always thought, but despite her abrasiveness and her crude jokes, Abigail likes Mary. The way she carried herself when she was pregnant and the way she's plowing through this Lifetime rendition of her life, with Marshall right there by her side, is fierce and she admires Mary for that in a way.

And there's the catch; Abigail is sure Marshall would do anything for Mary but she has no idea of the female marshal's feelings for her partner. Are they reciprocated or unrequited? Given the engagement ring on her finger, she has tried to lean in the latter's direction but it's becoming really difficult.

She finally hears the door open and notices it's not even night any more, rather the early hours of the morning. Marshall looks worn and tired and surprised when he spots her on the couch.

"Hey, were you waiting up on me? You shouldn't have, I told you it might take awhile." His voice is quiet and lacks the usual humor which is only natural.

"The bed seemed cold without you in it." She plays it off with her natural perkiness and he smiles in return as he extends his hand to pull her up. It's then that she notices the blood on his shirt, almost invisible on the dark fabric.

"What's wrong?" He glances in the direction where she's looking and is surprised as well.

"Oh. I guess it must be from Mary when she..." his voice trails off and he shakes his head to clear away the gruesome images that come back, unbidden.

Abigail swallows, the image of how close they must've been for the blood to transfer from her to him, flashing in her mind's eye. But she forces it away. "How is she?"

Marshall gives a wry smile. "She's Mary, so she says she's fine." But she recognizes his concern for his partner – for his Mary – and wonders how long _she_, Abigail Chaffee, could pretend to be fine until he noticed.

* * *

Abigail watches him more closely than usually during the following week when he alternates between going to work and wrapping up the Shannon case and going to Mary and finding out how she's doing. She knows Marshall babysits Norah a couple of times and once more, she's plagued by images of the three of them together, like a family. It burns her inside and makes the ring on her finger heavier than it should be.

She goes to the funeral and watches as the Shannons bury a father they never really knew. Jinx and Brandi are crying but Mary just stands there, stoic as ever, holding Norah who is too young to understand any of what's going on. There are two young girls, a redhead and a blonde who stand next to a middle-aged woman and look somewhat out of place and she deduces they must be his other family.

Marshall stands by her in the beginning but he's fidgeting and when the crowd begins to dispense, she gently nudges him to go to Mary. He gives a small thanking smile and goes and she wonders why she encouraged him to leave her.

When Abigail sees the way he and Mary communicate with each other, with just a glance, she willingly acknowledges that the feelings are both reciprocated and unrequited by Mary. She refuses to need people and love is the ultimate way of needing someone else so while she does love Marshall, Abigail is certain Mary resents herself for it.

* * *

It's been another week until Abigail's mind is made up about what she's seeing and what she needs to do in response. When Marshall comes home one night, she finally makes him sit next to her and with a deep breath, starts undoing what she's done.

"You love Mary." She doesn't want to dance around it any longer and catches the surprise on Marshall's face but also sees him quickly composing his thoughts and feelings.

"Well, yes. She's my partner and my best friend."

"No, Marshall. You are in love with her."

Now he looks alarmed and wary, like a cornered animal. "What are you talking about? I love you, Abigail and I have put that ring there to prove as much."

He grabs her hands but she just gives a sad smile and shakes her head. "I'm not angry at you, Marshall, I just...I guess I never wanted to see it but now I can't unsee what I've seen. I tried to be bigger than this but whatever is happening between the two of you, no one else can come close to even touching that. You rely on each other in ways I can't comprehend and while I do believe you love me, Marshall," she strokes his cheek, trying to calm the wild panic flaring all over his face, "I also believe you love her in ways I can't compete with."

She sees the moment he stops fighting it and the tension is replaced by sadness. "But Mary doesn't."

"Have you ever even asked her?"

He stands up now and lets out an aggravated sigh. "I can't believe I'm even having this conversation with you, Abigail. We are about to be married and..."

"And you would prefer I kept it for an upcoming anniversary? Or until you die and realize you made a mistake and it can't be undone?"

They quiet for a minute. "I tried telling her once and she ran off to Mexico. I don't think that's what is supposed to happen."

"You told her you loved her?"

He hesitates for a moment. "Well, not exactly." He doesn't want to bring up the time he actually used those words but hid it in a congratulatory speech about her engagement.

"Did you speak to her in metaphors?"

"Something like that."

She chuckles and he gives her an astonished look. They're having a break-up conversation of sorts but she can laugh. "Marshall, I have known Mary for a year and even I know that she doesn't deal in metaphors and euphemisms and subtle hints. If there's anyone who's not subtle, it's her. And you expected her to respond to you after you hinted at the possibility of something in that very roundabout way of yours? And I thought you knew your partner, Marshall Mann."

He doesn't say anything but Abigail knows from the look on his face that he's turning it around in his head and she feels strange with the realization she's helped the man she loves realize how to make it with someone he loves.

* * *

Three weeks later they've both moved out to separate apartments and the house is on the market. They're sharing custody of Oscar and while they keep their distance – you can't go from lovers to friends just by changing the label – it is working out.

And one night, Marshall decides to tell Mary just as much. He knocks on her door when he knows Norah is with her father for the night and she's home alone. He just hopes he isn't being a fool and this won't cost him the one person he cannot lose.

"Really? You don't see me enough at the office, Marshall?" Mary quips instead of a welcome but lets him in and they sit down on her couch. She's been reading and in the soft glow of the light seems tamed and relaxed, somewhat innocent and young.

"I thought it's time we had a talk, Mar."

"What, Abigail ran out of words?" She jokes but for the first time Marshall hears – or lets himself hear – the slightest hint of sadness and jealousy in her voice.

"Actually, Abigail and I...we're not together any more."

Mary is taken aback at his words, clearly not having anticipated this. "What? When?"

"A few weeks now."

"Why didn't you tell me? Or, rather, why did you break up? I thought she was the perfect Mrs. Mann. Even your father liked her."

"He even said she was the kind of girl he and mom always thought I would bring home one day. But he also asked me if she was the girl I thought I would be bringing home."

She gives him an incredulous look, like she's trying to decipher his words but really not hearing or understanding them and Marshall remembers Abigail's words about metaphors and roundabouts.

"It all comes down to who I'm with when it's four in the morning and I'm needed. I always come to you, Mar."

Now she tenses and pulls back from him a little, as if preparing to go into fight or flight mode. "It's not like I ask you to come; I don't think I could keep you away if I took out a restraining order. I'm your partner and oddly enough that makes you think I need you."

Humor defuses intense emotions quickly but this time, Marshall is not taking the easy way out. "That's not it, Mary. I think you do need me but you're afraid to because needing people is dangerous when people can leave you and that is your biggest fear. I know you, Mar, and I know you keep people at arm's length but I haven't left."

"Marshall, I don't know what you want me to say here."

"Fine, I'll say it then. I love you, Mary, and there is nothing platonic about that but I also think you've known this for a long time."

She goes very still and the thousand emotions running across her face are from every part of the spectrum. "I...what..." She's clearly lost for words, something new for her.

"I love you and every part of your life, everything that's good and bad and clear and confused and I'm not going to stop. I'm going to keep doing this and even if I have to tell you over and over again every day for the rest of our lives, I will because you are the girl I have wanted to bring home. And if you're thinking about running off to Mexico again, I would at least like to be the one to accompany you this time."

Whatever response he was expecting from her, it isn't for her to suddenly hug him so tightly she has never done before. Mary never likes people touching her or to touch others and while the way she is holding on to him now is new, he responds in kind, not really understanding nor caring.

"God, I'm so messed up, Marshall. I don't know how to do any of this."

He pulls back and looks at her, gently cradling her head in his hands. "Well, I suppose we could start with something like this."

And then he kisses her and unlike the last – first, only, deceptive – time, there are no bad guys to distract, no lipstick to smear. There's only lips gliding and the maddening feeling of things finally being right and when it's replaced with the need for oxygen, his shirt is undone and his hands are touching the soft skin underneath hers.

"I think I could do well with this part, Marshall." She grins cheekily but the desire in her eyes is replaced with something tender and soft that he's never seen before aimed at him.

"I suppose I should say I do love you."

"Then we'll be good at this, Mar."

* * *

**A/N:** If the finale goes even slightly in this direction, I'll be satisfied. Thoughts?


End file.
